After commandeering the back row of the train, because at heart we want to be like the cool kids on the school bus, we immediately unloaded our food bag (yes we brought a food bag), and proceeded to drink our juice carton wine. Now, this may sound unusual but let me just explain. See in Italy you can find a whole liter of wine in, what appears to be, a giant amazing juice box. America really needs to catch up on this trend, because it is awesome. So obviously, we each bought a juice box and straws and continued to be typical drunken Americans drinking on the train and eating Nutella, cheese, and crackers...but mostly Nutella. After finding, laughing at, and making enemies with the Italian police academy students in front of us (ahem, Kirsten), and having long, wine-induced heart to hearts, we continued to blast music, play "who would win in a fight" and pull out another entire bottle of wine and wine opener to prolong our drinking when are juice boxes ran out. Needless to say, we were everyone's favorite train passengers and were in great spirits when we arrived in Venice for CARNEVALE.
Now if any of you know me, you may recognize my obsession with Disney and fairytales and realize just how in love I am with Venice and Carnevale. First of all, Venice is one of the most magical places I have ever seen. Between the soft pastel colored buildings, flower gilded bridges and the winding canals navigated by the rickety boats and gondolas of the Venetian people, the whole atmosphere is enchanting. It feels like you were dropped into that scene from Tangled where Rapunzel first enters the gates of the kingdom and dances in the sunlit square beneath the streamers and lanterns of the festival, that's how Venezia feels. Then add in Carnevale where everyone is dressed in fantastic costume and before your eyes is a land of masks and gowns, princes and princesses, fairytale characters and superheroes...I even saw Gandalf and a Harry Potter. So yea... you can imagine how obsessed I was with this place.
The first day was spent sight-seeing. Getting lost in the colorful crowds of Saint Mark's Square and the Rialto Bridge, staring in awed reverence of the mosaic stories of the Basilica ceiling, and trying to figure out our horoscopes from our signs on the clock tower (yea, our new orphan thing is horoscopes...) The crowning moment of our day was our gondola ride. After grabbing a couple bottles of Billini and flagging down our pal Dino the gondola driver, we glided down the intricate canals, waving at the masked faces from the bridge and drinking out of the yellow plastic cups in our gloved hands. I don't think I could ever forget that gondola ride. There wasn't anything truly extraordinary about it I guess, but I think it's just one of those moments that stuck. Just the feeling of sailing throughout the sinking city, going back in time under the stare of masquerade masks and the crumbled homes of Venice, it was...I don't know, special. I could've sat there for hours if time (and Dino) permitted, and when we docked I just knew that was something I would tell my kids and grandkids about. Kids, one time I took a gondola ride with my friends, and we spent an hour floating down the Venetian canals during a crisp afternoon of Carnevale, drinking Billini and laughing at everything and nothing at all. Yea that's probably what I'll say. We headed back through the shops and festivities of the holiday to the hotel we lovingly dubbed the Venetian Icebox, after the revelation that 1. we do not understand Celsius temperature dials and 2. we're pretty sure our heat was broken (by Anne, the ghost in our bathroom).
We proceeded to dinner in our feathered masks and colors, got harrassed in the drunken hoards of the Carnevale after party (imagine a Mardis Gras/rave where you can't understand what anyone is saying), and ended up at an Irish Pub singing 70's songs and looking for a place to get french fries. Carnevale...we salute you.
After another day of strolling through the Murano glass stores and costume shops, drinking coffee at the famous Hotel Danielli, and wondering how the sunny day passed by, we were both sad and a little bit relieved to return to the Tiziano. It was the first time that I said the words "I think I'm ready to be home" and realized I was talking about Rome...and it felt good. I feel grounded here, and it was good to be back. So Venezia, you are a love of mine, thank you for a great first weekend, and Roma it's good to be back.
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